SSS Unknown: Dark Knight's Legacy

"Ugh, argh… it hurts so much."

Unknown gritted his teeth, his trembling hands tearing away charred remnants of skin.

Each movement sent searing jolts of agony through him, yet he pressed on, his resolve unyielding. The wound sizzled as he forced his body to accelerate the healing process.

Pain. Raw, unrelenting pain.

As the flesh began to knit itself together, the torment only grew sharper, a fire raging through his veins. The dizzying fog in his mind thickened, each second stretching into a cruel eternity. Healing didn't bring relief—it deepened the suffering, dragging him through a prolonged storm of anguish.

He screamed.

It wasn't just his voice that cried out; his body did too, every nerve ablaze. Slowly, the injury closed, leaving behind an ugly scar—a stark reminder of the ordeal. The rapid regeneration that was usually his blessing had betrayed him today, carving marks worse than the burns themselves.

A necessary evil. One he could endure, but only just.

"Phew… I hate those damn fire-using monsters."

Unknown let out a weary sigh, wiping sweat and grime from his brow. Burns weren't new to him—he'd survived them before. The memory of conquering the tower still lingered, marked by the time a Skeletal Bow landed a point-blank shot that scorched through his defenses.

This time, it was a scorpion ant.

The creature's searing sparks had erupted from the shadows, burning through his armor and flesh in an instant. He had been exploring the swamp, trudging through its clinging mud and stifling humidity, when the attack struck without warning.

Instinct kicked in. He charged forward, hoping to close the gap and eliminate the threat before it disappeared, but it was already too late.

The scorpion ant had vanished into the swamp's murky depths, leaving only the sting of his burns and the bitter taste of failure.

'Is there any way to protect myself from magic?'

He had tried dodging. Blocking. Neither had been enough. Each encounter with magic left him more exposed, more vulnerable, and painfully aware that his journey into this dangerous world was only growing harder.

Magic was the great equalizer here—and he was utterly unprepared. Worse still, it was his weakness.

His limited mana reserves were barely enough to produce a few feeble sparks, let alone launch any meaningful counterattack.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion. How he longed to collapse into the swamp's filthy embrace, to let sleep claim him. But as his gaze fell on the injuries streaking his body—some fresh, others stubborn scars from days past—a gnawing unease overtook him.

He was alone.

No allies to watch his back. No voice to share his burdens. No sense of how much time had passed since he'd been thrust into this brutal world.

The frustration burned hotter than his wounds. Helplessness gnawed at him, a bitter truth he couldn't ignore.

If he couldn't find a way to bridge the gap between himself and magic, this world would consume him before he ever had the chance to fight back.

'Get up.'

'Get up and go kill it, you lazy bastard.'

'If you don't get stronger, you'll never get out of here.'

The sharp, scolding voice in his head jolted Unknown from his stupor. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself upright, his body still screaming from the lingering aches of his accelerated healing. His pitch-black sword felt heavier than usual in his grip, but he clutched it tightly, channeling his frustration into resolve.

The bow and arrows he once relied on lay abandoned. Close combat was his path now—raw, brutal, and personal.

"System!" he barked, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. A soft chime echoed in response, and the ethereal blue interface shimmered into view before him, the familiar glow offering a cold, indifferent comfort.

Status Panel

Name: Unknown

Class: Swordsman

Level: 32

HP: 1300/1550

MP: 55/60

Attributes:

Strength: 37

Agility: 45

Endurance: 37

Skills:

Fighting InstinctFire SparkAccel+Limit BreakMagic Vision

Unique Ability: Survival Mutation, Skill Ascended 

Skill Points: 2

Sword Arts:

Quick SlashSweeping SlashAuraTriple slash

The glowing text laid bare his progress—a testament to how far he'd come, but also a sobering reminder of how far he still had to go.

Level 32 wasn't weak, but in this unforgiving world, it wasn't strong enough to guarantee survival. Each monster seemed stronger, more cunning, and more brutal than the last.

His stats were decent. His agility, in particular, gave him a razor-sharp edge in combat, allowing him to dodge and strike with precision. But his HP and MP were glaring weaknesses—fragile lifelines that magic-wielding enemies exploited with ruthless efficiency.

He tapped the interface, his eyes narrowing as he considered his options. The two unspent Skill Points felt heavier than any weapon. They weren't just points; they were hope, potential, and a fleeting chance to close the gap between life and death.

'Fire Spark? No. Too weak for anything serious.'

'Accel+? Useful, but not in every situation.'

'Unlock a new combat art?'

The thought tempted him, but he hesitated. Unlocking a new skill might be a game-changer, but it could also leave him unprepared for the next grueling challenge. 

His fingers hovered over the glowing options, indecision gnawing at him. Each choice felt like a gamble, and in this cruel, relentless world, there was no room for mistakes.

And he had felt the impact of being indebted to the system.

If he hadn't spent that point into Fire Spark, he would have fifteen more points by now.

He sighed, dismissing the interface for now. There wasn't enough time to dwell on it. The battle ahead would require every ounce of his strength and skill. Unknown clenched his sword tighter, its dark blade seeming to absorb the faint light around him.

"Focus," he whispered to himself. "If I can't win this, nothing else matters."

The swamp was no place for distractions. The scorpion ant had nearly killed him once, and it would not get the chance again. He couldn't afford to let his guard down.

His senses, once dull in the dark, had begun to sharpen. Whether it was the adaptation to the environment or his improving ability to control the flow of magic within him, he had grown more attuned to the dark. He could now spot the smallest details, even in near-total darkness.

'Looking at these animal carcasses and scratch marks, the scorpion is close.'

'The nest must be nearby. I need to find it.'

Activating his Magic Vision, Unknown scanned the swamp for mana signatures. Faint currents of energy flickered across the murky landscape, guiding his gaze to a dense cluster beneath the water's surface—a nest.

It was well-hidden, submerged in the murky depths, but Unknown knew flooding it was a futile strategy. The scorpion ant was no ordinary creature. It could outwait him, lurking in its lair until the perfect moment to strike.

He cursed under his breath, frustration gnawing at his patience.

"Tch."

With his options dwindling, he made a decision. If the scorpion relied on ambush tactics, then he would beat it at its own game.

Spreading his pitch-black cloak over the muck, he pressed himself flat against the swamp floor, becoming one with his surroundings. The damp earth seeped through his clothes, the swamp's thick, humid air clinging to his skin.

His armor grew heavier with every passing second as water wicked into its seams, and the putrid stench of decay clawed at his senses. It was miserable—hot, sticky, and utterly vile.

But revenge demanded sacrifice.

The silence of the swamp stretched, broken only by the distant croak of unseen creatures. Unknown remained motionless, his ears straining for the faintest hint of movement.

Then he heard it.

A faint rustling in the distance.

His heartbeat quickened as he felt the creature's presence before he saw it. A monstrous silhouette emerged from the shadows, its body rippling with an eerie menace.

The Swamp Scorpion.

It was the apex predator of this hellish place, its six pairs of eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. Its massive pincers—one large and crushing, the other small and piercing—clicked with an unsettling rhythm, and its long, segmented tail twitched like a coiled whip, ready to lash out.

Pain pulsed through Unknown's still-healing body as he watched the creature approach. His chest tightened, his breath quickening. But he forced himself to steady.

No mistakes.

He had one shot at this.

'Calm down. Calm down.'

'The scorpion doesn't have great vision.'

'It likely hit me last time because of its enhanced environmental senses. My own carelessness got me hurt.'

Unknown steadied his breathing, locking his focus on the approaching predator. The scorpion moved closer, oblivious to his position, its massive frame casting ripples in the murky water.

Then, in a flash, he darted forward.

His sword swept upward in a sharp arc.

[Sweeping Slash]

The blade connected, tearing through the scorpion's carapace. A shriek of pain echoed through the swamp as it thrashed violently, its massive pincer smashing against Unknown's weapon. The impact sent a jarring shock up his arm, but he didn't falter.

The creature lashed out with its deadly tail, but Unknown had already spun away, landing nimbly on his feet. His movements were sharp and precise, like a predator in his own right.

Without hesitation, he surged forward again, gripping his sword with both hands to deliver another devastating blow.

This time, the scorpion met his strike head-on. Its massive pincer clamped down on his sword, holding it fast. It wasted no time, lunging with its smaller pincer to stab at him.

Unknown reacted instantly. Releasing his grip on the sword, he ducked under the strike and rolled to the side. In one fluid motion, he drew his knife and assumed a defensive stance.

'Its pincers are tough. And fast—too fast for something this big. This won't be easy.'

The two combatants paused, five meters apart, both calculating their next move. The swamp air hung heavy with tension.

'I can win this.'

Unknown exhaled slowly, channeling his magic into the knife. A faint, glowing aura enveloped the blade.

[Quick Slash]

He lunged again, aiming for a vulnerable spot. The scorpion blocked once more, but Unknown used its counterattack to his advantage. He spun with the force of the blow, pivoting to land a precise strike that severed one of the creature's legs.

The scorpion stumbled, leaning on its larger pincer for balance. Sparks crackled from its maw before it unleashed a barrage of fireballs.

Unknown's heart raced. He kicked the water, hoping to deflect the flames with a splash, but the fireballs tore through the misty barrier.

With no time to dodge, he channeled more magic into his knife, deflecting the incoming fire with desperate precision. The heat licked at his skin, a brutal reminder of his earlier wounds.

As the scorpion prepared another volley, Unknown seized a pouch from his belt, pulling out a mix of slime and spider silk. In one swift motion, he dashed forward and shoved the mixture into the creature's mouth.

The scorpion thrashed wildly, its aim faltering. Sparks ignited the slime, scorching its maw and sending it into a frenzied dance of pain.

'This is my chance.'

Unknown reclaimed his sword, gripping it tightly as he approached the weakened predator.

[Sweeping Slash]

His blade severed the smaller pincer and sliced through several more legs. The scorpion collapsed into the swamp, panicked and helpless, its once-menacing form reduced to a flailing shadow of itself.

Unknown didn't hesitate. He drove his blade into the creature again and again, each strike fueled by unrelenting determination.

By the time he finished, the scorpion was nothing more than a mangled heap of flesh sinking into the murk.

"Gasp…"

"…It's dead, right?"

"Yeah. It's definitely dead."

Ting!

Level up. You are now level 33; skill point +1.

Taking a long breath to steady himself, Unknown turned toward the nest. Inside, he found smaller scorpions skittering in panic and an egg sac pulsating with life.

His expression hardened.

With swift, merciless strikes, he silenced the smaller creatures and set the egg sac ablaze, watching as it burned to ash.

'No mercy for monsters.'

But just as his guard relaxed, a strange, tingling sensation pricked at the back of his neck. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, like a whisper in the air. But then, it intensified—sharp, unnerving. 

Something was wrong.

His instincts screamed at him, and in a heartbeat, he was on his feet, his eyes scanning the shadows. He felt the shift in the dungeon's atmosphere, a sudden disturbance in the stillness that had once felt familiar. 

The air had ruptured, and the usual eerie silence had given way to a low, unsettling hum.

Without a moment to lose, he sprinted toward the exit, his boots thundering against the stone floor. His heart raced, and his breath came in sharp bursts as he burst through the den's entrance. The sight that greeted him froze him in his tracks.

A swarm of spiders—thousands of them—poured from the darkened corners of the dungeon like a living, writhing sea.

"What the fuck happened?"